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Oftentimes, Aegon wondered what his Mother sees when she looks at him. Aegon wondered what could possibly warrant such disdain for her own son, what provoked her outbursts of hot temper seemingly reserved only for him, never his siblings, as it seeped everywhere down to her core and bled into his. He wondered what it is that he lacked which made him so unworthy of his Mother's love but so very worthy of her rage, disgust and bone-deep abhorrence.
Aegon was five when Alicent first raised a cruel hand on him. Mother and son both stood frozen for a few seconds. Aegon could not move, he could not think. He simply set his eyes on the floor where his gaze landed the moment his mother’s hand collided with his tender cheek.
It hurts.
A beat.
Mother hurt me. Mother hurt me.
Alicent dropped to her knees and raised her hand to caress the now reddening mark on the prince’s face. It was a harsh blow for a child. The mark was sure to bruise badly, a stark contrast against his sickly pale skin. Aegon flinched away, for the first time he did not feel the comfort and solace she brought as his only present parent. He did not feel the warm blanket of her presence, as if nothing in the world could touch him when he was in her embrace. She often whispered when she thought he’s asleep after she put him to bed.
“I love the bones of you.” Her words were so full of warmth he made sure to remain very still so as to not startle her and bask in her affection even for a few seconds longer before the fantasy is shattered, inevitably.
And ye, at this moment, it was not love he felt gripping his very bones. It was fear.
Mother can hurt me.
“I-... I-I.. sorry.. Oh Gods… Fo-Forgive m-me, my sweet boy.. I-”
Alicent made another attempt to hold him. Aegon took several steps back. At her son’s rejection, Alicent’s face truly fell, her features contorted in a mix of guilt, regret, and distress. Her breathing had gone ragged, as if all the air was knocked out of her lungs with great force. She was shaking. Fat tears rolled down her face as she brought her hands to her chest and relentlessly tore at her nails, a gesture he often saw her do whenever Grandsire made her terribly upset. A startling gasp left the little prince’s wounded lips at the realization.
I hurt mother.
Suddenly, the pain radiating from his cheek was all but forgotten. It is his fault she’s crying. She is in pain. He hurt her. Aegon forced his shaking legs to move, to run towards his mother. He tried to embrace her entire body with his little arms and buried his face on her chest where he felt the thumps of her raging heart.
“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Mum! I’m sorry, p-please don’t cry now, Mum. I’m s-sorry… I’ll be g-good. I will not be a bo-bother! I promise! I promise!”
His voice quivered as his sobs choked him out, but he had to tell her he’s sorry even if he had to force the words out of his aching throat. She had to know he didn’t mean to hurt his Mother as he was sure his Mother didn’t mean to hurt him. Alicent weakly tried to return the embrace as her own sobs wracked her figure. She slowly brought her lips down to kiss the crown of his head. Aegon felt the trickle of his mother’s tears meeting his own. They stayed holding each other, letting their shared warmth melt away the icy fear that took hold of his heart in the last hour. Alicent gently rocked him back and forth and softly caressed his silver hair as she murmured apologies upon apologies with words Aegon could not fully decipher.
Mother is sorry. Mother will never hurt me again.
And at that time, Aegon truly, truly believed her. He truly believed that his mother’s love encompasses all. All his deficiencies as a son. He knew what they say in hushed whispers when they thought he’s too young to understand. The maids complained that his behavior was too rowdy, too noisy, too loud. The maesters shook their heads at him when he couldn't read a simple passage from a history book because the letters were too confusing. 'It is unbecoming to have such inadequacies for a prince!' Much less a future king was left unsaid but rang loud enough nonetheless.
He believed that if a dragon were to appear, she would shield him behind her body and not a lick of the scorching dragonflame would ever touch him. He believed that it does not matter if the world burns, even if he were the one to set it all on fire in a haze of Targaryen madness, she would love him unconditionally and unceasingly; because he was her son. Her baby. Her first boy.
He believed her until they parted and Alicent’s eyes fell upon his face once again. His swollen deer-like purple eyes, glistening with tears. His curly silver hair. His furrowed dark brows. His reddened nose with the exact same slope as hers. His busted lip. His bruised cheek. It was like Alicent was forced to look upon a fractured reflection of herself, morphed by her sacrifices. Tainted by her duty. By Him. And for a second, something akin to hatred crossed her features before it disappeared just as quickly and she peeled his arms away from her.
“It is getting late. You must be abed now, Aegon.” She said, voice strained from crying.
“O-Okay.” Aegon hurriedly got up from the floor, his knees bruised from staying in a kneeling position for over an hour. He wanted to ask to be carried abed, but he promised her that he would not be a bother.
Alicent tucked him in his softest fur blanket and placed his toy dragon beside him. Aegon’s heart leaped because he knew she is not mad at him anymore. Mother never bid him a goodnight when he got in trouble. Alicent blew his candles and was about to leave when he mustered up enough courage to ask.
“Do you love me, Mummy?”
A beat.
A sigh.
“Go to sleep, Aegon.” She whispered and closed the door to his chambers.
There was silence.
A tear fell from the little boy's eye down to his pillow.
Followed by another, and then another.
Mother hurts me. I don’t think she knows it. But Mother hurts me.